


The sea sounds nice

by muimi



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 22:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muimi/pseuds/muimi
Summary: It was a love forged in sun, salt and sea.





	The sea sounds nice

A yawn pulled at the seam of your lips and you arched into a stretch away from the blanket tucked securely around your form. Light cradled your face as layers of sun kissed the length of your body turned towards the car window, lighting the fluttering of your lashes and pulling strings of gold through your irises when you finally, and drowsily, revealed them to the canvas ceiling.

It was with no more than a silent grunt that your fingers threaded through the mass of tangles stemming from your scalp, pulling at the matted locks and grimacing as your nails caught at the strands. It wasn’t really any surprise that your hair was in such a state - spending over ten hours squirming and rolling in the back seat of a car wasn’t famously known for the treatment of knots. Still, you tried your best to smooth the wild frizz before moving. Bracing yourself against the front car seats, you hauled your body into a seating position and gazed through the seats gap at the slumbering man.

Peter was beautiful, that you were sure of. With dark eyes and lips that were fast to smile, he seemed to be perfect at a first glance; so unflawed as he sped through the days of his life and swung silently through the city. Yet you saw that and so much more. You saw the curve of his blemishing jaw after a night on patrol, the straying frayed ends of his hair, curly and wild. The scars that marred him, souvenirs he called them from his many encounters with less that savoury individuals. They dragged like faint lines all over his body and drew deep into his chest.

But, he was still imperfectly perfect in your eyes. Even with the flaws that he pointed out when you said so - you always set a grave and disappointed look at that, but he was as stubborn as you were so you settled for kissing away his worries- he was stunning.

Especially from where you sat now, tracing your fingers across his cheeks, his nose, his lips. The sun was kind to him, you determined, bundling him into its warm embrace so tightly all you could do was stare openly in awe.

How you had been destined for Peter would always be something of a mystery to you; where he shone you shied, where he was soft you were harsh and blunt. Nevertheless, there was his name, spelled out in black ink on your forearm, sinking right through your skin to your heart.

You had never believed in soulmates really, before you met him. It had been on one of the last days of summer, much like this, that Peter Parker had walked into your life and you’d never looked back. He had been working in some sandwich shop and you’d dragged yourself over to the counter with a bottle of lemonade clasped under your arm, exhausted after a cramming session for your thesis.

Immediately you’d known something was different. words had stuck in your throat, your hands trembling and eyes blown wide as you set eyes on that mop of unruly hair for the very first time. It was strange, because as you watched him ring up an order, you were held by the sense that you knew him. The thought, or maybe it had been an instinct, was quick to form but you were quicker in pushing it aside. This perfect beautiful being couldn’t be your soulmate.

Yet he was, and you knew it. Knew it in your heart, in your very bones. Knew it when Peter turned those lovely dark eyes to you and stuttered a few words as he gaped at you.

Time had slipped away in the spaces between you at that moment, the bustle f the shop forgotten as he jumped the till edged closer to you. Fingers, hesitant and quivering, had reached for you face and you’d ached for him and all you could be. Your name had fallen like a prayer from his lips and he scrambled to pull back the sleeves of his sweater, revealing the familiar scrawl of your name over his forearm. Nodding slowly, you’d returned the gesture and watched as the harsh concentration melted away from his gaze and for first time of many, you watched Peter smile.

A countless dates and nights spent pressed to each other and here you were, resting in the back of his car as he curled in the front, insisting you sleep in the more comfortable backseat after the tumble you’d taken yesterday. Your ankle still throbbed

Visiting the sea together had been something you vowed to do from the very first day. You’d grown up in a town quite like the one you were now camped out at, but Peter had revealed on maybe the fortieth date that he’d never seen the ocean in it’s full expanse. But seeing the passion that bloomed in your eyes at the prospect of seeing such a familiar sight with the man you’d started to love, Peter had promised to one day got there wit you. So when your father had finally bought a newer car and passed down his old four wheeler into your hands, it had taken little over a week for you to be in the front seat, legs folded under you as Peter sung and joked you across the freeway.

It had taken roughly a couple of days to reach the edge of the country, but after hours spent cooped up in the car you had leant out the window and shouted as the sky fell to meet the land. Peter had merely laughed when you squealed and grabbed at his arm, obediently letting you drag him onto the beach and sink outstretched fingers through the sand.

The plan had been to stay for around four days before trekking back home, but the sprawling and battered planes of grass and the salt air was intoxicating. Peter had been more than happy to accommodate when you had turned puppy eyes towards him and begged to stay just a little longer.

The car that had housed your journey became your bed, sitting room and kitchen. Every night after trotting through the quiet town cobbled streets or wading through the barley fields just a few miles away you would both settle in the back seat under an old, patched blanket and simply watch the stars until sleep came. Perhaps it would’ve been better to snuggle under a hotel’s plush so to not have to massage the kinks from your back and neck, but it was perfect. Perfect to have Peter’s arms thrown around your waist and your nose deep into the warm crook in his neck from the moment your eyes closed to when they slipped open.

It was with that thought that you pouted, very much aware that your boyfriend’s eyes were still very much closed that you shuffled forward until your forehead knocked against the hard line of his shoulder. Puckering your lips, you mouthed along the exposed flesh of his neck and grinned when he jolted under your weight.

“Peter,” A whine stuck to your words, as your arms came to wind around his neck and you began to lay pecks up from his jawline to cheek, “I know you’re awake.”

When all you received was a bitten back smile, you groaned and pawed uselessly at his shirt. The gentle stirrings of a chuckle blooming in Peter’s chest is all the recognition you get as you clamber over into the passenger seat. Satisfied, you swing you lags over to fit snugly over the cradle of Peter’s hips and with a gentle huff of triumph you collapse your entire weight onto him.

The press of your lips to the corner of his mouth is hesitant at first, skirting around the definitions of a kiss. With no real purpose or drive you simply press languid pecks over his lips, enjoying the softness. With a soft laugh when you draw back and Peter follows you, you slant closer to him and delight in the slow rumble of approval that he lets out as you nip at his bottom lip.

It’s only when your lungs are pleading for air and Peter’s hands are sliding to your waist that you stop, tumbling back against the headboard with a heated flush and try to ignore the silver strand still connecting you.

“Well damn,” The laugh in his voice is high and lilting, ringing throughout the car, “If that’s how you’re gonna wake me up then I may need to ignore you more often.”

“Shut up.” It’s through your hands that you grumble, sulking until you feel him shift underneath you. Palms miles larger than your own skim over your knuckles to entwine with your hands, pulling away from your face until warm eyes are peering through at your crimson cheeks. Pressing a soft peck to the tip of your nose, Peter pulled you closer, uttering a soft good morning and rubbing a hand up and down your back until you’re purring happily.

“How did you sleep?” The hand stops briefly on your lower back before pressing harder into your taut muscles, smoothing circles as Peter debates his answer above you.

“Hmm. It was alright.”

Lazily tilting your head, you arch an eyebrow at your boyfriend, scoffing when he blinks innocently.

“Peter Parker, you know you can’t lie to me, we’re soulmates after all,” The last words are drawn out and taunting, your eyelashes fluttering dramatically. It’s a little poke at the time Peter had declared he could understand your every move due to the fact your name was on his arm and vice versa. You had never really let him live that one down. “Plus I know you much have a thousand knots in your neck after sleeping all slumped over like that.”

“Damn you’re never gonna let that go are you?” Seeing the grin that spreads over your face and the way your head shakes into affirmation, Peter sighs affectionately, “ And… yeah, you’re right I guess, but you shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Well, I do worry. You should’ve just slept with me in the back, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” His thumb brushes over your jaw as Peter cups your face and angles it towards him. “How is your ankle, by the way?”

“A bit sore and swollen, but I think I’ll live.” You grin as Peter fusses and tries to peer down at where your ankle still lays next to his thigh. He only stops when your thread your fingers through the baby hair at the nape of his neck and massage the stiff flex of muscle there.

Frowning, you make a mental note to thumb out all of the pressure there later and to never let him convince you that he’s fine sleeping in the front because he is most certainly not.

Before you had come into his life, Peter had barely been caring for himself: Swinging around the city all night before stumbling to him 8 AM class. It’s practically a miracle that he managed to survive all those years alone in Queens before you came in scolding and lecturing with concern. Maybe that’s why May liked you so much - because for all of the bravado and teasing in your relationship, you loved Peter more than you had ever loved someone before. From the way Peter’s smiling now, you about guess he feels the same.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, stroking over your cheekbones and stares at you with so much promise that you almost melt. So you turn and press a kiss and the word ‘you’ into his hand, smiling back when his eyes curl up happily. God, he’s so beautiful.

“What a coincidence,” Peter grins and you snort, letting him wrap you up fully in his arms “I was thinking about you too.Wanna know what about?”

You nod, nuzzling his neck and delighting as he cranes to give you more space. You almost forget he’s speaking until warmth floods your system at his words.

“I’m thinking that this is where I want to live when we get married,” Peter smiles to himself, looking out far across the ocean and tightening his hold on you, “I was thinking how nice it would be to bring our children to this beach one day and tell them about how Mama and Papa met or when we came here when we were younger.”

“That sounds nice,” You murmur into his skin, falling into the fantasy easily. It was a topic that Peter explored quite regularly, often waking you up in the night to describe in detail what your children would look like or text cute names to you in the middle off the day. Maybe for some it would seem odd for a twenty-something year old to be so passionate about a future that still seemed so far away, but for you it was sweet. One of the many things you adored about the man. “But what about Queens? Didn’t you want to live in the house next to where you worked before?”

“The little house with the ivy and black gate? Damn, you’re right, that was perfect. Well, maybe we could come here in the summer? Rent out the apartment we saw when we went to the market yesterday and stay for a few weeks. That’d be nice.”

“What like a vacation home?” You laugh as you peer at him, “I don’t think we’d have enough money to do that every year Peter, but maybe a couple of times.”

“Hey, it’s my fantasy,” In a fit of childishness, Peter’s tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth and he tickles up your sides as you squeal and flinch away. “We can stay here if we want to.”

“Okay, okay, sure whatever you say, baby.”

For a moment it’s silent, the only sound the sea and the gulls complaining into the breeze, but you both sit together, warm and content. It’s Peter that breaks the stillness, pressing a peck to the top of your head and murmuring into your hair.

“Well, where ever we live - in Queens, here or the moon, I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you.”

The words are so sweet and sincere that you pull him all the tighter into your embrace. Because he’s yours and though there may be times that you still feel inadequate or he’s too busy saving the city to see you as often, he will always be yours and you will always be his.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, softly, glowing when he murmurs it back almost immediately.

Later you will both venture out onto the coast, him half carrying you before giving up and hauling you onto his back as he runs laps in the sand and you laugh to the clouds. In a weeks time you may have to return back to the city, but for now you enjoy the quiet embrace of the sea and it’s sleepy town. And, you don’t know it yet, but ten years from now, when the old tyres of the same car rumble back through to that same town and the same beach, instead of two pairs of feet stepping out, four will. The nights that were spent gazing at the stars will then hold the attention of two toddlers, staring in awe as their father describes the first moment he laid eyes on their mother as she blushes and swats at him.

But, for now you don’t know that, so instead you just beam as Peter races you back to the car and swathes you in his oversized sweater. Because for everything you have yet to know, you are sure that with Peter, it’ll be everything you could ever want.


End file.
